


Trouble is a Woman

by ABadPlanWellExecuted



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, GitF, Jealousy, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABadPlanWellExecuted/pseuds/ABadPlanWellExecuted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor’s timing is slightly better post-GitF.  Reinette comes along for the ride.  Trouble ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She could handle this, no problem.  She’d helped overthrow mad dictators and saved captives from werewolves.  She’d (apparently) defeated a whole army of Daleks with a wave of her hand, and…and just last week, she’d gotten a very alien and scratchy sort-of cat down from a very alien and scratchy sort-of tree.   So she could definitely handle _this_.

So what if she could suddenly feel the turn of the Earth under her feet—that was no reason to panic, was it? Even though they weren’t actually on Earth…or any other planet, for that matter.  And if the nonexistent Earth somehow spinning under her feet just happened to be turning in the _wrong direction_ , well that was hardly of consequence, right _?_    Because she was Rose Bloody Tyler, and she ate trouble alongside her morning tea.  She tightened her grip on the edge of the TARDIS console.

The Doctor bounced through the ship’s doors.   “Jeanne Antoinette Poisson,” he announced in a cheery voice, stopping to extend a hand back to the blonde lady waiting at the threshold, “welcome to the TARDIS.”

(Rose didn’t think she could handle this.)

***

Hours later, Rose lay on her bed, trying to make sense of the complete U-turn her life seemed to have taken in the last week.  Not seven days ago (relatively speaking), she’d been in the visitors’ section of the Detrini Meldocon Moon Lab, holding hands with the Doctor and laughing as they bounced on the universe’s largest trampoline, complete with gradated gravity fields and a wide assortment of beach balls.  Then they’d followed a class of alien children around on their field trip, and the Doctor had explained about friction and inertia and velocity so much better than the instructor (or at least, with so much more enthusiasm) that he’d soon had a swarm of fuzzy blue kids hanging on his every word. 

At the Vacuum Tube Room, he’d set up clever little physics experiments of the sort usually confined to textbooks.  Then, with the flourish of a true showman, he’d stepped out of the clear tube and, pressing buttons and spinning dials, he’d evacuated the air and eliminated the gravity. While the class had ooh’d and ahh’d over the kinetic reactions and pressed their little cerulean proboscises against the glass, the Doctor had leaned over and whispered in Rose’s ear about Newton’s law of universal gravitation and the attraction between two bodies of mass, and maybe the innuendo hadn’t been on purpose, but the way he said the words was still enough to make her blush.

Then her mobile rang, and Mickey had summoned them to Deffrey Vale.  The Doctor got a good look at the ravages of time on Sarah Jane’s face, freaked out over human mortality, invited Mickey to come along with them, and now seemed to be pursuing some sort of…something with an extremely famous, extremely French courtesan who was now apparently a member of the crew. 

In retrospect, Rose thought she probably should have let him keep the horse.

She groaned and rubbed the heels of her hands over her face.  And dinner…well, that hadn’t been half awkward.  Actually, the whole evening had been like some sort of horrible physics experiment gone wrong.

_What happens,_ she thought, _when you take two positively charged ions and try to make them live in a sentient spaceship together?_  

No doubt she’d have ample opportunity to find out.

***

_Earlier that evening:_

When Reinette first entered the TARDIS, she looked around with a quiet, elegant dignity.  ( _No inane “it’s bigger on the inside” observations for Madame de Pompadour_ , Rose thought sourly.)  Mickey just stood there, looking shell-shocked.  Meanwhile, the Doctor was bouncing around the console like the complete lunatic that he was.  His rambling had achieved a speed that Rose knew from experience meant that he was either hyped up on sugar or trying to distract everyone so as to avoid dealing with something that would, no doubt, come back and bite them all on the arse.

“Doctor,” she said, trying to get his attention.

“Or maybe we should all go to that ice world, what was that called, Coablin 3?  4?”  The Doctor snapped his fingers, ignoring her.  “Started with a ‘C’ anyway.  Spanking good toboggans.  And the ice sculptures are amazing!” he chirped, his voice hitting a new and impressive high note.  “Always thought I’d like to give that a try, though I imagine it’s rough on the fingers, what with the frostbite and all.  Still, marvelously friendly people.  And you like ice, don’t you Mickey?”

Before Mickey could even open his mouth to answer, the Doctor had already whirled away, flipping switches and dials left and right.  “Or we could check out the White Plasmatic Star Disruption—fantastical upheaval of stellar matter in the Sulrek galaxy: amazing colors, sparkly lights, and one hell of an explosion!  _Whoosh!_ ”  He threw his hands up in the air as he spun around the console.

“Doctor,” Rose interrupted patiently.  She’d very casually, and very deliberately, leaned her hand onto the one TARDIS control that she could reliably identify—the handbrake.

“Of course, if that's not your cup of tea, we could always go to…” The Doctor’s voice trailed off as he noticed where Rose was standing.  His eyes dropped to her hand, and his thoughts were clearly visible on his face—a) that she was preventing them from going anywhere, b) the realization that she was doing it on purpose, and c) a grudging admiration for the fact that she knew what and where the handbrake was. 

Rose rolled her eyes.

“Doctor,” she said again, searching for the right way to say this as tactfully as possible.  “I know it’s your ship and all, and not that I want to be unwelcoming, but…”

“Won’t her being here screw up history?” asked Mickey bluntly, nodding his head toward Reinette.

“Yeah, that,” said Rose.  “We’re not ripping a big hole in time, are we?”

“Um, no,” said the Doctor, still eyeing the handbrake.  “No need to worry about that.  Everything will be just fine.”  He moved as though he expected her to shift over, but Rose stayed firm.

“It’s just,” said Rose, “I sort of vividly recall you saying something about the dangers of changing fixed points in history.  Remember?  An ordinary man alive in the world who hadn’t been there before?  Altering time?  Reapers eating everybody?”

“Ye-es,” said the Doctor slowly, his eyes still on her hand resting on the brake.  “But see, I said _ordinary_ man, Rose.  An ordinary man is the most important thing in the universe.  But a politician?” He winked at Reinette.  “Well, they’re utterly interchangeable.  Nothing to worry about.”

Rose stood her ground.  If he thought he could shuffle her off with that sort of nonsense, he could just think again.  When she didn’t react with anything but a scowl, the Doctor sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “It will be fine….because, Reinette,” he said, addressing the courtesan, “I’m afraid you can only come along with us for a little while.  Then you’ll have to take your rightful place in history.”

Reinette inclined her head gracefully.  “I am quite happy to accompany you for as long as you think wise,” she said with a little smile.

“Happy now?” said the Doctor to Rose, with more than a hint of sarcasm. 

“Well…” said Rose, shifting slightly.

“Good!” interrupted the Doctor, taking advantage of her indecision by scooting her off the brake.  “Then, as the French say,” he waggled his eyebrows at Reinette, “allons-y!  Ooh, I like that.  Allons-y!  Think I’ll say it more often.”  With a flip of the lever, he sent them spiraling into the Vortex.

He seemed ready to pick a location at random and jump straight into adventure again, but Mickey looked dead on his feet, Rose wasn’t feeling all that energetic herself, and Reinette was still wearing the enormous ball gown. 

“How about,” suggested Mickey tactfully, “we have some food and maybe a good sleep, and then go planet hopping tomorrow, yeah?  We could pick a destination over dinner.”

The Doctor made a face.  “But shouldn’t we at least pick somewhere to go eat?” he asked. 

“I sort of made curry this morning,” said Rose hesitantly.  “We could have that for dinner.”

“You cooked?” asked the Doctor blankly.

“You made curry?” asked Mickey at the same time and with a lot more enthusiasm.  “My favorite curry?”

Rose shrugged a shoulder uncomfortably.  She had thrown the various ingredients in the TARDIS’s version of a slow cooker that morning, as a bit of an apology gesture to Mickey for being so reluctant to have him on board.  Really, it hadn’t taken any real effort, but she’d noticed that ever since Mickey had come on board, everything felt like a declaration—who she spoke to, who she stood closer to, whose favorite dinner she made.  And now, with Reinette here, subtly shifting closer to the Doctor, it was worse, much worse, but it was too late to do anything about it.  She nodded.

“Oh, babe,” said Mickey happily.  He moved in closer and slung an arm around her shoulder.    “You shouldn’t have.  That’s great, though.  You ever had her curry?” he asked the Doctor.  When the Doctor just shook his head, Mickey’s smile turned smug.  “It’s the best.” 

“I’m sure,” said the Doctor with an unreadable expression.

Rose tried unsuccessfully to subtly slide out from under Mickey’s arm.  “We don’t have to eat it tonight, if you don’t want…”

“No, no,” answered the Doctor, his eyes skittering away.  “I’m sure that would be fine.”  He bent down to stare into the monitor.  “Well, sounds like we have a plan, then.  See you all in the galley in, oh, let’s say an hour.”  He gave a firm, quick nod, eyes still on the console. 

It was a dismissal, the sort that Rose hadn’t received since the Doctor had gotten a new mole and taken to wearing pinstripes.  And back then, she’d always just ignored it—when the Doctor was curt was usually when he needed someone the most, but now… 

Now she just didn’t know.

Besides, Reinette didn’t have anywhere else to go.  And maybe that was the point—Rose and Mickey were supposed to leave and let famous courtesan Madame de Pompadour cheer up the Doctor.

It was petty, it was jealous, it was unworthy—but at the moment, Rose didn’t care.  She wasn’t walking away if Reinette was staying. 

“Doctor, maybe Reinette would like to…” she started, intending to suggest that they find her a room, but she trailed off as a new thought hit her right in the gut.  Surely, Reinette wasn’t meant to sleep _with_ _him,_ was she?  But the Doctor was looking at her impatiently, and so she just stood there babbling, struggling to convey her thought through a series of lame gestures.  “Does Reinette, I mean, should she…?”

“Is there a place where I could put my things?” asked Reinette smoothly, glancing down at her valise.

The Doctor blinked.  “Oh, right.  A room, of course!  Rose,” he drawled, “you remember how to find an available bedroom, yes?  Why don’t you help Reinette get moved in.  I’ll see you all at dinner.”

_Moved in._

Sure. She could do that.  No problem. 

After a brief smile and a muttered _this way_ , Rose led Reinette into the interior of the TARDIS in awkward silence.  (Mickey glanced between them both and scarpered, interpersonal tension never being his strong suit.) 

As they walked farther from the console room and its occupant, Rose began to berate herself for being so horrible.  This was feeling a lot like her first encounter with Sarah Jane, and that wasn’t something she was eager to repeat.  She didn’t _want_ to be unwelcoming; she didn’t _want_ to be catty.  So, she decided firmly, she wouldn’t be.  She could be friendly.  She was _good_ at friendly. 

“Alright, here we are,” she said as brightly as she could manage as they arrived at a hallway full of doors.  “Any of these rooms will do.  Let me just…”  She pressed a hand to the door, repeating the request in her mind, and then smiled stiffly at Reinette.  “There.  Now, if I did that right, this ought to be a bedroom.”

She cracked the door open with some apprehension—communicating with the TARDIS could be sort of hit-or-miss sometimes.  Peeking inside, though, she saw that the room had been transformed into a bedroom, and she let the door swing open all the way.  The room was beige and inoffensive, a bit like a hotel room, actually, and not the TARDIS’s best work, but at least there wasn’t frog wallpaper or paintings of peasants storming the Bastille or anything. 

“Er, hope this will do.  There should be a loo through there,” she waved a hand toward a door in the corner of the room.  “Uh…I suppose it might be a bit different from what you’re used to, but…but it’s mostly self-explanatory, though if you need any help…”  She swallowed. 

Reinette was still standing near the entrance, quietly watching her, and Rose fumbled for a conversation topic.  “Let’s see…oh, clothes!” 

She hauled the valise over to a set of drawers and began explaining the complicated garment storage system and how it connected to the laundry and the myriad of ways that it could (and would) break.  “And mixing colors is fine, it’s different fabrics you don’t want to put in together—”

“Rose,” interrupted Reinette patiently.  Gently.  She placed a hand on Rose’s arm.  “I think maybe you are not entirely happy that I am here.”

“No,” Rose answered too quickly because this was the last thing in the world that she wanted to talk about right now.  “No, it’s…it’s nice that you’re here.  It’s good.  It’ll be…nice to have another woman on board,” she finished lamely.  “Um.  I should go.  You’d probably like to settle in, and I should really check on that curry.”  She started to move, to get away before the restless shifting thing under her skin that she’d been working so hard to suppress could snap its tether and find a voice.

“Please,” said Reinette, still gently holding her arm.  “You think I don’t understand.  I do, truly.  Rose—”  Reinette looked at her gravely.  “I know exactly what it is like to love a great man.  To feel both the ecstasy and the burden of that love.  And to know that even though your heart is his, you are not the only thing his eyes see.”

Rose pulled her arm free as that feeling— _resentment—_ that she’d tried so hard to suppress bloomed up inside her.  

“But that is the way with men such as these,” continued Reinette.  “You can’t change them, and it would be folly to try.  And really, it is no matter.  We are not the same thing to him; we fill different roles in his life.  Rose,” she said, offering a soft, friendly, horrible smile, “he can love us both.”

Rose curled her fingers into fists, pressing her nails into the palms of her hands.  There were words in her mind, ugly words— _child_ and _chav_ and _whore_ —and the exact sound her hand would make striking that perfect face.    She took a long, slow breath in through her nose, trying to remind herself of different moralities—Gwyneth, who’d been shocked by her tales of boy-watching, and Jabe casually asking in public if she were the Doctor’s prostitute.  Jack—ever-flexible Jack—telling her that the best approach when faced with these things was usually to be direct and then laughing at her when she blushed.  She let the breath back out.

“The Doctor’s not my lover,” she said at last, bluntly, and then watched as Reinette’s expression shifted to pity.  Not smug, self-satisfied pity—actual, genuine compassion.  Once again Rose fought back the urge to smack her.

“Well,” said Reinette delicately, “I suppose I was mistaken.  And…Mickey?”

Rose shifted impatiently.  “Yeah, Mickey’s not my boyfriend either, not anymore.”  She gave Reinette a hard stare, an Estate stare.  “We done here?”

Reinette drew herself up.  “I apologize if I was too forward.  I understand that, one way or another, the Doctor means a great deal to you.  He means a great deal to me as well.”

“Right.  The Doctor.  Totally worth the monsters, like you said.  Thing is,” Rose straightened her shoulders, “your monsters?  Yeah, those were _my_ Tuesday afternoon.  Which reminds me…you’re going to need some better shoes.”

“Shoes?” Reinette asked blankly.

“For running.”  Rose’s face creased into a sharp smile.  “There’s loads of running.  Away from the monsters, generally, although sometimes we mix it up and run _toward_ an explosion or a fire or an alien invasion.  You’re going to want some different clothes too, now that I think about it.  Can’t run in a dress like that.  Let’s see…” 

She laid a hand against the wardrobe door and struggled to rein in her less than generous thoughts.    But when she popped open the door, every single item inside was a uniform shade of lime green, and she winced and quickly shut it again.  “Sorry.  That’s not right.” 

_Come on_ , she thought to the ship, trying not to be a complete arse.  _Help me out here._ The second try turned out better—there was an acceptable mix of attractive and practical, and everything was a reasonable hue.  “There we go.  If you want more—” she waved a hand at Reinette’s ball gown, “posh stuff, you’ll need to check the wardrobe.  I’ll show you later.

“Right then.”  Rose looked quickly around the room, but she couldn’t think of anything else that would require a demonstration, and there was no way she was staying for any more chats about the Doctor.   “I’ll just let you have some time to look around.  Gotta go check on dinner.”  With that, she beat a hasty retreat to the door.

Just as she was crossing the threshold, Reinette spoke up.  “Rose?”

Rose turned to look back.

 For a moment, Reinette looked like she was going to say something else.  Then she ducked her head.  “Thank you.”

Rose gave a quick nod and a horrible half-smile.  “‘Kay.”  Then she left and quickly shut the door behind her. 

In the corridor, she took a moment to breathe in and out. 

_God, she was just…_

_Did she have to be so…_

_Why did he have to…_

Letting out just one little frustrated groan, she hung her head.  The trouble was, it really wasn’t Reinette’s fault, as much as she’d like to tell herself otherwise.  Reinette was just coming along for the ride, same as Rose.  If she happened to fancy the Doctor, well, who could blame her?  And for all that Rose would’ve liked to blame the Doctor, it wasn’t really his fault, either.  Heated looks and perpetual handholding aside, they really weren’t together—she had no claim on him.  Just because he was her friend didn’t mean he couldn’t be friends with other people.

She slid down against the corridor wall and threw her head back against it with a solid thunk, sure she had just managed to be the biggest bitch in the universe. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_\- London, 2001 -_

It was a rare, sunbaked day in July, the sort with heat shimmers coming up off the pavement and air thick with the smell of chip grease and sweat.  Most of the Estate residents were outdoors, gathering on stairs and shady overhangs, nobody wanting to ride out the heat wave in cramped, airless flats.

The metal railing of the Estate balcony was burning the skin of her forearms, but Rose didn’t much care.  She only had eyes for one thing—young Jimmy Stone, standing in the courtyard in his new leather jacket, one arm propping him up against the wall as he smiled down at Shireen.

“Nothing but trouble, that one.”  This comment came from Jackie, but it wasn’t directed at Rose.  She and Bev were spending the day sitting out on the walkway people-watching, and they’d been having a grand time of it. 

“Oh, I dunno,” said Bev, rattling the ice cubes in her glass.  “I mean, alright, he looks it, but there’s the good sort of trouble and the bad sort.”

“You only say that since you don’t have any daughters,” retorted Jackie.  “Trouble is trouble.  Just look at Shireen down there.”  She sighed.  “He’s going to have her eating out of his hand.”

“Isn’t that the boy Rose was going on about?” asked Bev, louder than was strictly necessary.  “She’d better get down there, do something to turn his head.”

Rose took a deep breath in and out through her nose to drown out the sound of her mother's indignant reply.  What did either of them know, anyway?  In the courtyard below, Shireen was twirling a lock of her hair around one finger—her signature flirting move—and pouting her lips out just like she had when they'd practiced together in front of the mirror last week.  And Jimmy was eating it up.

Rose's fifteen year old heart twisted in her chest.

It wasn’t Jimmy Stone’s looks that did it for her, though he was fit as anything.  It was more about his music and his genius and how being near him made everything seem more _possible_.  She liked the way he moved like he was going someplace.  The way he felt like he was on fire, and if she stood close enough, maybe she’d start burning, too.

Shireen turned to the side, enough that Rose could see she had an extra button undone on her shirt.  There was a flurry of tongue clucking from the Jackie-and-Bev gallery, which had Rose rolling her eyes, remembering her mum fixing her top the same way before going to the market with the good-looking bloke behind the register. 

A group of their mates was gathering in the courtyard now, giving Rose an excuse to go down without it seeming too awkward.  Maybe if she went now, maybe tried pouting her lips some, too, she'd manage to get Jimmy's eyes off of Shireen.

Her fingers started to fiddle with her own top button.

She was so busy planning what she’d do when she went down that it was a moment before she noticed Mickey's Gran standing next to her. 

"Oh, sorry," said Rose, and then added “Mrs. Smith” just to be on the safe side, since Mickey’s Gran was big on manners and quick with a smack when she felt it was warranted.  "I almost bumped straight into you.  Um.  I'm heading down to the courtyard now.  I think Mickey's down there.  You want me to send him up here?"

The old lady was silent for a moment, and Rose squirmed under the weight of her sightless stare.  When she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically quiet.  “And Jimmy Stone, he’s down there as well?”

“Uh,” Rose floundered, her face heating up.

Mrs. Smith sniffed before Rose had a chance to follow up with something better.  “Never chase after them, Rose.  Never.” 

"'M not," protested Rose, too surprised to feign ignorance.  "I just want to--"

"When you compete for a man's attention, you give him all the power.”  She reached her hand out, and Rose caught it automatically in her own.  The old lady squeezed it tight.  “Don’t.”

Rose swallowed, shame making her cheeks burn.  “Alright,” she mumbled.  “I won’t.” 

But as Shireen’s well-practiced laughter drifted up to the balcony, Rose knew it was a lie. 

***

_\- The Present -_

The galley kitchen felt crowded with four people.

Rose kept her focus on stirring the curry and tried to ignore all the commotion and chatter behind her, made worse by the Doctor being louder than usual.  Because of nerves, she couldn’t help wondering?  Excitement?  Joy?

Every possibility made her ache a little bit more.

He was particularly enthusiastic about Reinette’s change in clothes.  The eighteenth century courtesan had somehow managed to get herself out of that great big dress and into a pair of jeans and a nicely fitted white button down, courtesy of the TARDIS, and the Doctor had been over the damn moon about it—how impressive it was that she was jumping right in, trying new things and all.

Meanwhile, Reinette’s musical laughter lilted over everything, a constant reminder of…everything.  To her credit, she wasn’t just focusing all her attention on the Doctor—at the moment, she was asking Mickey all sorts of insightful questions about his life in the twenty-first century, and though Mickey wasn’t generally much for talking about himself, under the influence of a skilled courtesan, he was practically bubbling. 

 _It’s ok_ , Rose told herself, savagely tamping down on the little flares of jealousy that kept leaping to life in her chest.  _What does it matter if Mickey starts to think she’s wonderful, too?  She_ is _wonderful.  She’s a_ lovely person _.  It’s fine._

A hand gripped Rose’s shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts.  The Doctor gave her a light squeeze and leaned over to get a glimpse of the food.

“How’s it coming?” he asked, peering into the pot.  “Ooh, looks good!”

“Yeah,” said Rose, forcing a bright smile.  “Nearly ready.  Get the dishes out?”

The Doctor squeezed her shoulder again.  “Right then.”  Turning, he clapped his hands twice.  “You heard the lady.  Time to set the table.”

Rose fiddled with the buttons and knobs until the cooker turned off.  She dished curry and rice into serving bowls with meticulous precision, refusing to turn around and see how Reinette was taking to carting the dishware that the Doctor had loaded into her arms.  It was lowering to admit it, but she couldn’t help that little bit of her that hoped Reinette would throw an aristocratic fic—stomp her foot, toss some plates to the ground, maybe shout ‘ _Zis is beneath me!_ ’ in a corny French accent.  No such luck, though.  When Rose finally turned around, the plates were set out on the table, Mickey was pouring drinks, and Reinette had just finished putting out the silverware, looked rather pleased with herself. 

She was also standing very close to the Doctor.

Very, very close.

In fact, she was standing so close to him that it became immediately obvious to Rose that they needed napkins for the table, and she quickly whipped back around to spend a few moments digging them out of the back of the cabinet and taking long, calming breaths.

Once she couldn’t reasonably delay any longer, it was time to take a seat.  Rose made up her mind that she wouldn’t be fighting for the right to sit next to the Doctor—she’d just take a seat wherever there was room—and so, of course, promptly found herself next to Mickey and across from Reinette, as far away from the Doctor as it was possible to be.  She dished some food onto her plate and tried not to think about it. 

“Mmm, babe,” said Mickey after his first mouthful of curry.  “Turned out great.  I think this might be your best one yet.”

“Yeah?” said Rose, picking up a forkful to taste.

Mickey nodded.  “Even better than that one you made with the little potatoes, remember?  That weekend right after we started dating, and your mum was visiting your gran, so you stayed at my place for the first time ever, and we spent the whole time—”

“So, Reinette,” said the Doctor, abruptly changing the subject, “it’s been a few years since we saw you last.  How’ve you been, killer clockwork robots aside?  What’s been happening in eighteenth century Versailles?”

Reinette’s lips curved up as she dabbed their corners with her napkin.  “Answering that would take quite a lot of time, Doctor; I have been extraordinarily busy.  But then, I am certain you are more than familiar with the history of era.  The war we have fought.”

“What war’s that?” asked Rose.

“The Seven Years’ War,” answered the Doctor without looking at her.  His eyes were still focused on Reinette, who inclined her head.

“It has taken up a great deal of my energies,” she confessed.  “Though there have been other, more pleasant things—parties, hunting, and the like.  My gardens, of course.  Oh, and palmistry, the science and art of hand-reading, has come into vogue ever since the Comte de Saint Germain visited the court—a fascinating man, by the way.  You’d enjoy him, Doctor; he’s quite the character.  In my spare time, I have been reading much of his book on the practice.”

Rose raised an eyebrow.  “Hand reading.  You mean, like fortune-telling?”  Beside her, Mickey sniggered, though he made the effort to cover it up by taking an especially large bite of curry.

“Now, now, don’t be like that,” the Doctor scolded.  “Chiromancy has been practiced in many forms throughout human history and across the Eurasian continent.  It was used by Alexander the Great all the way up to Mark Twain and Oscar Wilde.  So, what’s the newest word in it, Reinette?”

She tilted her head.  “I’ll give you a demonstration, if you like.  I am not truly skilled, but I have a basic understanding of the principles.”  Reinette held out a hand to the Doctor.  “Your palm, sir,” she demanded, lips curving up.  When he seemed to hesitate, she wiggled her fingers enticingly, and he gave his hand over with a smile.

“There we are.”  Pursing her lips, Reinette inspected the Doctor’s palm.  “Now, I’m told that this,” she traced a fingertip lightly over a crease in his palm, "foretells the length of your life."

"Does it go all the way up his arm, then?" snorted Mickey with a glance at Rose, but she was too distracted by the way Reinette was delicately touching the Doctor’s hand to laugh.

Reinette ignored Mickey as well and kept up her evaluation.  "And this one here is your head line.”

Mickey chuckled.  “Oh, does _that one_ go all the way up his arm?”

“Nah,” said the Doctor as he leaned in to look at his own palm.  “That one forms a nice little infinity loop right in the middle of my hand.” 

Mickey made a face at him.

“And then we have the heart line.”  Reinette caressed his palm and brought it closer to her face to examine the crease.

The table at large paused and looked at Mickey, who had just taken a bite.  Quickly swallowing, he flashed a grin.  “Only one of those?  Hey, maybe you should do a quick check of the lumps on his head next.  Inspect his humors or whatever,” he suggested.

Reinette looked at him curiously, and the Doctor cleared his throat.

“Phrenology came later, by at least fifty years.  And was disproved shortly thereafter,” he added.  

Reinette tapped her index finger against the Doctor’s palm and tutted.  “You have a chained heart line, Doctor.  That indicates that you crave danger and excitement.”  She gave him a knowing, mischievous smile that made Rose’s stomach twist.  “It also shows a rather shocking tendency for flirtation.”

“Does it?” the Doctor asked, returning the jest.  “How dreadful.  Though, I dunno, are you sure you’ve got that right?  Because I’m fairly sure it was like that during my last regeneration, and nobody could have accused me of being a flirt then.”

“Hah,” muttered Mickey with a snort.  Rose meanwhile tried unsuccessfully to get him to hush with a subtle elbow to his ribs.

The Doctor rounded on him.  “What was that for?”

“You need to ask?”  Mickey rolled his eyes.  “Besides, I heard all about you.  Going ‘round, giving your breath to tree ladies and all.”

Rose gave up on the elbowing and instead kicked him under the table. 

“Ow,” complained Mickey, and then he glared at her.  “Never mind him, what was _that_ for?” 

Rose glared back.

“Anyway,” interrupted the Doctor hurriedly, “maybe we should talk about where we’re going to go once you all have had some sleep, hmm?  Rose—” He looked across the diagonal of the table and made eye contact with her.  “What do you think?  Anywhere in particular you can think of that would make a good first trip out?”

“Hey now,” said Mickey.  “Second trip for some of us.”

“Right,” said the Doctor with an eyeroll of his own.  “Sorry to downplay your vast experience.”  Before Mickey could leap in with a CV full of alien invasions and big yellow trucks, he prompted her again.  “Rose?”

“Oh,” said Rose, “let me think.” 

She was sort of pleased to have been asked, actually.  Even though she didn’t have the Doctor’s endless knowledge about the universe, she wasn’t a complete novice any more, and it made her want to take them somewhere good, show them something impressive.  The only problem was that a lot of her favorite planets were associated with something special to do with the Doctor, and Rose wasn’t too sure that she’d enjoy taking either Mickey or Reinette to any of them.  She definitely didn’t want any group picnics in the applegrass of New Earth, ta, or to go walking with Reinette under the waves of ice on Woman Wept.

“What about Plaeth?  Western continent, sometime during the height of their tourism trade?” she suggested at last.  “It’s definitely a change in scene from both Versailles and London.”

“What’s it like?” asked Mickey.

“Beautiful,” Rose told him.  “The climate’s sort of like the American Southwest.  Grand Canyon, desert, that sort of thing.”

Mickey looked suitably impressed. The Doctor, though, was frowning as he poked at his curry.  “I thought you didn’t like it there.”

“I did,” she insisted.  “It’s just so dry, I got a headache.  Sort of took the shine off of it.”  She didn’t add that he and Jack had been sniping at each other practically nonstop, and she’d lost patience with both of them.  “It probably deserves a second go, yeah?  And we can take them to the cloud riders, get a bird’s eye view of the scenery.”

“What are cloud riders?” asked Reinette, leaning forward with interest.

“Giant, flying, semi-sentient, telepathic insects,” explained the Doctor.  “Big enough to use as mounts.  You can connect with a cloud rider and take it flying through the canyons on your own personal tour and up into the wild blue yonder.  They rent them out along the cliffs for the tourists.  With some practice, you can even dance with them.”

He glanced down to where Reinette had her hand resting on his arm and then smiled at her excited face.  “I take it that meets with your approval?”

“It sounds amazing, Doctor.  Absolutely amazing.  Plaeth”  She took a few deep breaths, exhaling through pursed lips.  “A new world.  A real, alien world, full of wonders, and we are traveling there tomorrow. I’m not sure I’d fully comprehended what that would mean until this moment.”

The Doctor beamed at her, clearly pleased with her reaction.  “You’ll love it.  Incredible views, like nothing you’ve ever seen before.  And in the cities, they have some amazing terraced gardens that—well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise.  We’ll be there tomorrow.”

Her eyes were shining.  “I can hardly wait.”

“Yeah,” said Mickey, a little louder than necessary, “me either.”

  “Good, then it’s settled.”  The Doctor sat up straighter in his chair.  “Time for you lot to get your rest, then.”  Turning again to Reinette, he asked, “Did you manage to find a room?”

“Yes, thank you, Doctor,” she answered.  “Rose was kind enough to help me with both the room and the clothing, for which I am grateful.  Your ship is truly astounding; without help, I fear I’d soon be lost.”  She set her napkin beside her plate and glanced around the table.  “Indeed, if it isn’t too much trouble, I’ll trespass on your hospitality once again—would one of you show me to my room?”

“It would be my pleasure,” said the Doctor, hopping up and offering an arm before anyone else could react.

Reinette looked amused.  “A moment ago, you weren’t sure I had a room at all, but now you wish to escort me to it?  How will you know where it is?”

He winked at her.  “It’s a truly astounding ship.”

“Impressive.”  She stood up and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.  “Lead on.”

“Oi,” Mickey objected as the pair left the kitchen.  The Doctor poked his head back in through the door.  “Rose cooked.  We’re not leaving her to clean up the mess.” 

“And Reinette set the table,” retorted the Doctor.  “And I flew the ship.  Guess that puts you on KP duty then, eh, Mickey?” 

When Mickey just crossed his arms and glared, the Doctor huffed.  “Fine, if you’re going to be like that about it.  I’ll be back in a minute to give you your very own walk-through of all the wonders of the TARDIS’s super-advanced, thermos-kinetic, hydro-glyceride fusion module for the cleaning of dinnerware and cutlery.”

At that, the Doctor slipped away, and Mickey did his best not to look excited at the prospect of doing the dishes.  When Rose started to stand up to help him clear, he waved her back. 

“Nah, you just relax.”  He scooped up the plates, whistling as he went.

Rose laid her head against the cool surface of the table and tried not to think about it, where “it” was more or less the entirety of everything that had happened that day.  She’d kept her mouth shut during dinner, mainly because it felt like every single thing waiting on the tip of her tongue was horrid or spiteful, but uggh, she was having a hard time getting the image of Madame du Pompadour’s perfect, elegant fingers stroking the Doctor’s hand out of her mind. 

She pressed her temple closer to the table and closed her eyes.

“Rose,” said the Doctor softly from just off her right side.  He’d slipped back into the room quickly and with hardly a sound—Reinette’s room was evidently close.  “Are you feeling alright?”

“Hmm.  Yeah,” she answered, keeping her eyes closed.  “Yeah, just tired.”

“You sure?  Maybe we should check your cranial topography, hmm?” he joked softly, his hand coming to rest on the top of her head. 

He ran his fingers over her crown, stroking her hair, and it would have been so very comforting except…  Except.  His thumb.  His thumb, just there over the curl of her ear, tracing the edge from the top down to her earlobe.

She could take the declarations of love always unspoken except in the language of his hands and his eyes.  Rose knew perfectly well that affection could mean a lot of things, and there were a thousand different ways to love someone.  It was the thumb, still caressing her ear, that changed it all.

The thumb was saying ‘mine.’ 

That’s what made her twist her head out from under the snare of his affection because she didn’t care if he was a human or the last of the Time Lords or Zeus come down on his thundercloud—how dare he say she was his when he so clearly wasn’t hers?

 


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Rose woke up and lay in bed, blinking at the ceiling.  It wasn’t until she managed to coax herself into sitting up that she remembered the source of the nagging sense of dissatisfaction that had settled just beneath her ribs. 

It was tempting to flop back down onto the bed and crawl under the covers, but if she did that, it would only be a matter of time before the Doctor would come get her, and she really didn’t fancy having a one-on-one chat with him just then.  Or worse, he wouldn’t bother to come at all, just send Mickey to fetch her.  Or horror-of-horrors, maybe his darling Reinette, and…oh, she was being silly. 

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Rose managed to get vertical, and then staggered over to her mirror to give herself a good look in the eye.  Her reflection stared back—hair all over the place and everything a bit rumpled from sleep but otherwise fine.  Her brain hadn’t even had the decency to send her nightmares last night so that she could luxuriate in being pale and drawn in the morning.  Instead, here she was, looking inconsiderately well-rested. 

“You want to look pale so that he’ll notice you look pale,” she admitted to herself in the mirror.  “So that he’ll fuss.  And figure out why.  And make it all better.” 

She picked up a brush and started dragging it through her hair.  “That is the most pathetic thing ever, and we’re going to stop it right now,” she told her reflection. “ He’s our friend, that’s it, all he wants to be, nothing more.  He’s our friend, and what he is to anybody else really isn’t our business.”

She put the brush down, gave herself a firm nod, and set her mind to the task of getting through the day. 

***

Breakfast was hurried, a cuppa and a quick bite.  The Doctor was telling tales of the wonders of Alune, one of Plaeth’s largest settlements, and all the amazing sights and alien markets and delicious foods to be found there.  Everyone was picking up on his energy.  Mickey was so excited that he hardly finished his toast.

There was a flurry of activity as the two novice travelers got prepared for their first trip to an alien world.  Rose, remembering the climate, had dressed in an airy sundress and lightweight leggings, and after seeing their clothes, she sent both Mickey and Reinette back to their rooms to change.  (Mickey had come out in his typical t-shirt, hoodie, and jeans, and Reinette had sat down for breakfast in an expertly tailored three-piece business suit that she’d found in her closet.)  And with some chagrin, Rose helped Reinette find a decent pair of shoes. 

Once everyone was ready and assembled in the console room, hats on and 29th century sunscreen applied, the Doctor flipped the levers and pressed the buttons to take them out of the Vortex.  The TARDIS rumbled to a halt, and he trotted down the ramp.  His three passengers followed after.

Grabbing hold of the door knobs, he turned to the group and waggled his eyebrows.  “Let’s take a look, shall we?”  With an air of showmanship, he threw open the doors, revealing a sandy desert landscape.  “Ah, here we are, then.  A whole new world.”  He hopped out and stood waiting in the bright sunlight, hands in his pockets and quietly humming bits of the soundtrack from Aladdin.

Reinette paused in the doorway with her lip caught between her teeth, staring out at the terrain.  She gripped the frame with both hands.  “Are we really here?  Is this Plaeth?”  Her voice shook a little.

“Well,” said the Doctor, squinting at the horizon, “hard to be certain.  Definitely someplaeth, though.” 

“It’s Plaeth,” confirmed Rose, looking out over Reinette’s shoulder.  “Pretty sure.  Eighty percent.  Ready?”

“Yeah, c’mon,” complained Mickey, bouncing on the balls of his feet behind them.  “One small step for man, and all that.”

Reinette’s movement was tentative, and it reminded Rose painfully of that trip to a Victorian Christmas such a long time ago.  She put a hand on Mickey’s arm, holding him back, letting Reinette have this moment.  Delicately, Reinette touched down on the sandy soil, the sole of her shoes leaving faint impressions as she walked for the first time across an alien world.

“Amazing,” she breathed, and the Doctor’s face lit up. 

“And that’s just the first bit,” he told her.  “Alune is a twenty minute walk thatta way, and you’ll won’t believe your eyes when you see it—green as far as the eye can see; the garden that blooms in the desert.  Shall we be off?”

Deftly, Reinette slipped her arm through his.  “Yes, let’s.”

“Ow, watch it,” muttered Mickey, shrugging his arm out from under Rose’s suddenly overly firm grip.  “You’re pinching me.”

Rose swallowed once and then turned on a bright smile.  “Your turn,” she announced in a sing-song.  “Out you go.”

Mickey’s exit was much less dramatic.  He paused once in the doorway and looked down at the ground.  “Heh,” he said with a glance over his shoulder, “alien planet,” before walking out into the sunshine.    Then he turned back to face the ship to do a little celebratory dance for her benefit, and Rose’s smile became genuine.

“Yeah, alright.”  She stepped out and closed the doors.  “Save it for when…no, _if_ we all get back to the ship uneaten.”

“Ha ha.”  Then his smile dimmed a little.  “You are joking, right?”

Rose just grinned and trotted past him to catch up with the others.

The Doctor had cleverly parked the TARDIS amongst some low hills so that their first view of the city would be something of a grand reveal, but this meant that they had to do some hiking to reach their destination.  The group of humans fanned themselves, grateful for their hats and airy clothing.  It was still early enough in the day that the heat wasn’t oppressive, but the direct sunlight wasn’t pleasant as they made their way over the slopes.   

“It’s so dry,” said Reinette, puffing slightly as she hiked over the hill.  She dabbed away a faint sheen of sweat with the back of her hand.  “I’m surprised anything could grow here, let alone these gardens you’ve described.”

“Just wait,” said the Doctor, leading the way.  “Nearly there.  Look.”  Stopping at the crest of the hill, he pointed to something on the other side.  As the others caught up with him, the city of Alune came into view, sprawling out in vivid emerald green tendrils against the yellows and browns of the desert.

It got an “ooh” from Reinette and a “wow” from Mickey.  Rose looked at the Doctor, and for a moment, their eyes met, and they shared a quick smile over the reactions before his gaze flitted away and he quickly turned his attention back to the city below. 

“Alune,” he announced.  “One of the largest and most prosperous cities on Plaeth in this time period.  Eventually, it will become the capital and the seat of a mostly peaceful and harmonious government—at least, until its untimely destruction following a really terrible series of unfortunate…but, er, that’s a story for another time.  Entirely safe now!”

Rose cocked an eyebrow at him at that, since those words usually made an appearance right before they had to start running for their lives, but the Doctor wasn’t looking at her any more. 

“How do they do it?” Reinette marveled.  “All those plants should wither in this heat.  Certainly, they must have some hidden source of water, but even so, to keep them growing must take great skill.  Or are the plants of Plaeth accustomed to withstanding the climate?”

“Reinette Poisson, Master Gardener,” said the Doctor with a wide smile.  “You’re right on both counts.  Alune was built over a massive, ancient aquifer, which supplies the city with water, but the people here are so efficient with their water that it really takes very little.  And the secret is hydroponics.”

“What,” started Reinette only to stop and clear her throat.  “Excuse me, the air is so dry.” 

“Here,” said the Doctor, pulling three bottles of water out of his coat pocket.  He opened one and handed it to Reinette before passing the others to Rose and Mickey. 

“Oh sure,” said Rose, “this time you bring water.”  She’d meant it to sound teasing, but it came out more like a gripe.  Unsure how to fix it, she cracked her bottle open and took a long drink.

“You’d said you’d gotten dehydrated,” said the Doctor mildly, watching Reinette experiment with squeezing the plastic material of the bottle in between delicate sips.  “I thought it’d be good to be prepared this time.”

“Thanks,” said Mickey with feeling after taking a drink.  He capped his bottle and passed it back to the Doctor, who dropped it back into a coat pocket.   

“Yeah, thanks,” said Rose, a little too emphatically as she handed hers over, and then chewed on her lip, wondering why she couldn’t seem to sound like a normal person.

Reinette had watched them both before twisting the cap back on her bottle.  She started tipping the bottle back and forth, end to end, sort of casually, like she didn’t really want the others to notice what she was doing.  When nothing leaked out, she gave up the pretense and held it up, peering at the closure.  “Amazing.”

The Doctor chuckled.  “Part of the wonders of the industrial revolution.  Not too far off from your own time, really.”

She gave a self-deprecating smile in return and handed him the bottle.  “Thank you, Doctor.  But, ah, as I was asking, what did you say they used to grow the gardens?”

“Hydroponics,” he answered.  “Let’s go down and visit the public gardens, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

For a moment, Rose held her breath, thinking he was going to offer Reinette his arm, but the Doctor just stuck his hands in his pockets and started down the path.  As the others followed him, she let it out again and chided herself for being silly as she brought up the rear.   

The walk back down the hill was easier than the journey up, and more fun now that they could see their destination.  Another ten minutes’ walk saw them to the city’s edge, where the temperature dropped considerably under covered walkways and arches of greenery.  

Reinette was still walking alongside the Doctor when they caught their first glimpse of the native people of Plaeth—an insectoid race, slightly smaller than the average human, with lovely opalescent carapaces.  Her eyes went wide as she stared.

“My God.”  She grasped the Doctor’s arm and pressed herself against him.  “I’d thought…I hadn’t imagined…”

The Doctor chuckled and patted her hand.  “Nothing to worry about.  They’re friendly.”  He waved, two short chops of his hand, at the nearest citizen, who gave a polite answering twitch with her antennae.

“Yeah, no need to be afraid,” said Mickey with a certain amount of bravado, copying the Doctor’s hand motions.  Then he ducked his head and whispered an aside to Rose: “How come they don’t think it’s weird, us being here?”

Rose shrugged, her attention elsewhere.  “They get a lot of visitors here.”  Practically on cue, a Judoon stomped around the corner, and they all stepped to the side to let it pass by.   

“Extraordinary,” breathed Reinette, fanning herself.  Her mouth was hanging open, and she watched the enormous alien until it turned out of sight.

“And this is only the beginning,” said the Doctor with a grin.  “C’mon!”

They made their way through the tunnels of vines and across bridges carpeted in moss to a tram, which took them to the center of town.  They toured the Alisean Gardens, pride of the city, with its winding paths and trellised landscapes carpeted in all things green and growing. 

It was lovely, peaceful, but Rose couldn’t quite get herself in the right mindset for horticulture.  Instead, she found herself telling Mickey about the various alien species they saw—the ones that she recognized, at least—and answering his questions as best she could.

Meanwhile, the Doctor made good on his promise to explain the wonders of hydroponics as applied through a focused gravitational beam hydro-shielding around soilless growing media to Reinette, though the finer points were perhaps lost on his audience. 

Afterwards, they stopped for lunch in an open air market.  As they purchased their food and crammed themselves into a picnic table primarily built for insectoid use, Reinette gushed about everything that they’d seen. 

“They are brilliant, so clever!  Oh, I wish I could stay and study it all in detail.  The cultivation techniques alone—”

“Now, no telling,” admonished the Doctor with mock-severity as he unwrapped the foil from what was more or less a sandwich.  “If I go to the 21st century and find out that France has been using hydroponics for the last two hundred and fifty years, I shall be very, very cross.”

Reinette ducked her chin flirtatiously.  “Of course, Doctor.  I assure you, I shall keep your secrets.  Each and every one.”

He nodded, still playing at being stern, and made a gesture with two fingers at his eyes and then one at Reinette.  _Watching her_.

Reinette giggled.  Her giggle was extremely charming.

Rose unwrapped her food, wishing she could think of something to say or, better yet, another topic of conversation to introduce.  She glanced at Mickey, but he was no use, already stuffing his mouth with sandwich like it wasn’t made entirely of vegetables and bug parts. 

(Actually, he probably didn’t know.  And while it was tempting to casually mention the fact, as it would certainly alter the mood at large, she couldn’t quite bring herself to spoil the experience for him.  Anyway, it wasn’t like the bug parts weren’t _good_.)

Giving up, she took a bite of her own lunch and resigned herself to fifteen minutes of listening to Reinette delicately, subtly, _skillfully_ flirt with the Doctor.

“Souvenirs!” the Doctor announced when they were finished and tossing their wrappers in the recycling units.  “That’s what we need to really play the tourist.  I think lunch puts us out of local currency though, so let’s see if we can’t find ourselves a credit stick.” 

He weaved his way through the crowd, and they followed in his wake.  On the far side of the square, there was a Plaeth version of an ATM, tucked in a little vestibule and perfect for a bit of what were probably dodgy financial transactions. 

(Rose had long ago decided not to worry about that sort of thing—if anything less-than-ethical were taking place, she figured whatever interstellar bank the Doctor was defrauding could spring for the local equivalent of chips and maybe ice cream since there was a better than average chance that she and the Doctor would end up saving the planet by day’s end.  As the Doctor approached the ATM, she glanced at the others in their party to see their reactions, but Mickey seemed to be used to the Doctor doing whatever he pleased, and Reinette probably lacked the necessary frame of reference to realize what was happening.) 

The Doctor waved his sonic at the screen, and _ding!_ they had their unlimited credit stick.

“Time to shop,” he announced cheerily, leading them back toward the market stalls.  “What strikes your fancy?  They’ve got knick-knacks over here, and to your left, you’ll see a fine selection of doo-dads.  Or perhaps you’re more in the mood for trinkets?”

“Ooh,” said Reinette, pulling him to a stop in front of a display of shiny, colorful rings.  They would fit human fingers perfectly well, though they were meant to be worn on the antennae of some of the native species.  And of course, Reinette didn’t know that. 

“Jewelry it is,” said the Doctor.  “There’s more to be found this way, I think.”

They wove through the market stalls, the Doctor leading the way with Mickey and Reinette at his elbows, both of them curious about all the alien merchandise.  Rose trailed behind.

They stopped to shop in a little square where every stall was packed with sparkling treasures, some from far off worlds.  Rose wandered past the displays, reminiscing about her last trip here, when Jack and the Doctor had both vied for the role of her tour guide, not-so-subtly competing to see who could tell the most stories and name the most planets.  She thought about how annoyed she’d gotten at their endless sniping, and how ridiculous it was that she was back here again, missing the attention. 

Halfway through her trip around the square, she realized that Mickey was following her.  She dredged up a smile for his benefit.

“S’pose this sort of thing isn’t really your speed, is it?” she said with a nod to the jewelry.

“Eh, the Doctor said we’ll make our way past some data-feed shops in a bit.”  He chuckled.  “Whatever that means.  Probably something that’ll burn out my motherboard back home.”  Running his finger over a display of rings, he glanced at her.  “But what about you?  Aren’t you going to pick something out?”

Rose shrugged, not really in a shopping mood.  Everything seemed too big, too colorful, too gaudy, and anyway, it wasn’t like she wanted a souvenir—today just wasn’t a cherish-the-precious-memory sort of day.

“What about this one?” asked Mickey, holding up a glittering necklace.  “Want to see how it looks?” 

Even as he asked, he was already looping it around her neck and leaning in to work the fastening.  Rose took it out of his hands to fix it herself.  She looked in the mirror since he was already holding it up.  The salesperson clicked its tusks eagerly.

“Yeah, no thanks.  It’s lovely.  I’m just not looking to buy right now.”  Nimbly, she unsnapped the fastening and put the necklace back on the display.

“Ah, c’mon, Rose” cajoled Mickey.  “You should have something.  Something pretty.  And just think, real alien jewelry!”  He waved a ring at her and then did a double-take when it gleamed ruby red in a stray beam of sunlight.

She smiled at that, though his insistence was getting annoying.  “Yeah, but it’s not my first trip to a different planet.  How about you pick something out for yourself?  Something for Trisha?”  But to her surprise, he was already scooping up a bracelet woven in bands of green and gold, ready to help her try it on. 

“Oi, stop it!  Mickey, you’re not my—”  She stopped and lowered her voice.  “We’re friends, but you’re not my boyfriend, Mickey.  Alien jewelry’s not going to change that.”

“I know.”  He lowered the hand holding up the bracelet as his face fell.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  I just didn’t want you to…to feel left out.”  He looked like he was trying really hard to keep his eyes on her, but he couldn’t quite manage—his gaze kept sliding to the left.

Rose’s eyes followed, and she instantly spotted what he’d seen.  A few stalls down, the Doctor was leaning in close behind Reinette, his hands right at the nape of her neck as he helped her fasten a necklace. 

“Fuck,” she swore under her breath as she looked away.

“Sorry,” muttered Mickey. 

“Not your fault.”

“Rose.”

He tried to put a hand on her arm, but she shrugged him off.  “I don’t need pity bracelets, Mickey.”

“No, Rose, I didn’t—it wasn’t like that.  It’s just, Rose.”  He lowered his voice.  “He’s being an arse.  And it’s hurting you.”

Rose made herself look back down the aisle at the way the Doctor was all smiles and charm with Reinette.  “No, he’s not,” she said softly.  “He’s not being an arse.  He’s not being anything.  I’m the one that wants him to be something else.  But that’s not who he is.  I think that’s pretty clear.”

“But, shouldn’t you—”

“No.”  She took a deep breath and dredged up a smile.  “Doesn’t matter.  C’mon, let’s see if we can’t find something for you.”

Mickey looked like he wanted to object, but he let himself be led away.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Things got a little better in the afternoon.

The shopping trip wrapped up with the promised visit to the data-feed shop, much to Mickey’s delight.  And while perusing through shelves and shelves of tiny black boxes touting various connection speeds to some sort of interplanetary hive mind wasn’t at the top of Rose’s favorite activities, it did mean that now it was Mickey who was glued to the Doctor’s side, while Reinette stood near the shop entrance, captivated by an array of holographic adverts.  

Which was nice.  For Mickey, Rose quickly told herself.  Nice that he getting to do some alien stuff with the Doctor.  Not that Reinette was no longer the focus of the Doctor’s attention.  That wasn’t it at all.

Afterwards, they made their way to the cloud rider stables on an underground tram too crowded and noisy for conversation, but that was nice, too, in a rollicking, bustling, no-flirtation-possible sort of way.  Rose sat wedged between two brightly colored carapaces and found that she was looking forward to their destination and was not (for the first time all day if she were being honest) low-key wishing for some sort of imminent disaster to thwart.

In the shadowy, echoing caverns of the cloud rider stables, the Doctor handed over the credit stick to the insect at the front desk while Mickey stashed his new tech in one of the provided storage lockers.  In short order, they were set up with a group of handlers, who gave each member of the party a quick scan to determine their telepathic resonance.

“It’s just to pair you up with the most compatible mount,” the Doctor explained breezily as an iridescent Plaethean with a head like a praying mantis waved a glowing, humming wand over a wide-eyed Reinette.  “Totally harmless.”  

“Sure, so he says,” muttered Mickey, but he allowed himself to be scanned, only ducking a little bit at the end.

The group split up as the handlers led them to the stall of their assigned cloud rider.  Rose paused at the stall door and peeped in through the slats at the enormous green and gold dragonfly creature within.  It tilted its glossy black eye at her and chittered.

“Ah, she remembers you,” said the handler as he opened the door to let Rose in.  “You have been here before, yes?”

“Yeah.”  Rose glanced at the name plate on the door.  “Yeah, I flew with her last time.  Hi, Eliu.”

Eliu clicked her mandibles and beat her wings for an instant, making the air in the stall pulse with a deep resonance.

The handler hummed in reply and then waved his antennae at Rose. “She would be pleased to carry you again, if you so wish.”

Rose nodded as she stepped into the enclosure.  She stroked a hand down the creature’s leg in the way she recalled the cloud rider had preferred the last time, carefully keeping her hands away from the delicate wings.  

The handler helped her get into the necessary safety harness that would keep her tethered to Eliu’s abdomen, even if the cloud rider tried to drop her.  Then, he coaxed Eliu up until she balanced on her hind legs so that he could strap Rose onto the underside of the creature.  As the harness clicked into place, Eliu wrapped her first and second leg pairs around Rose, pulling her snuggly against the softer scales of her middle.  A gentle wave of telepathy rippled across Rose’s mind, and she tried to give Eliu a mental pet in response.  Eliu clicked again, a rapid, staccato beat.

“Very good,” said the handler.  “She will obey your commands.  You may set forth as soon as I open the launch gate.  Remember to stay within the low draft zone, as marked by the blue spheres, until we have launched all the members of your party. At that point, you can fly anywhere in or above the canyon, unless the area is marked off with red spheres.”

Rose gave her harness one last tug to check that it was secure.  “I remember.”

The guide threw a lever and the gate at the other end of the stall slid open.  “Joyful flying to you.”

Sunlight streamed in, and Rose shut her eyes against the bright light.  She gave the mental command to go, trusting Eliu to find her way out of the cliff face. The cloud rider’s wings began to rustle, and then hum, and in a flash, they were hurtling forward out into the open air.  When Rose next opened her eyes, she was staring down at the landscape hundreds of feet below, and Eliu was making a wide circle around the marked low draft area in the middle of a vast canyon.

It was delightful, almost like having wings of her own, and just as she’d remembered.  The nagging stress of the day seemed to melt away with the fresh air and the pleasant thrum of connection between her and Eliu.  Rose drew in a deep breath of fresh air and let it out—this was exactly what she’d had in mind when she’d suggested Plaeth.  Together, she and Eliu dipped and climbed as Rose tried out a few of the simple maneuvers she learned during her last visit. With each one, the connection between her and Eliu grew stronger.

After a moment, she spotted Mickey down below her, his cloud rider darting back and forth in a rapid series of starts and stops, and over the wind, Rose could hear him yelling directions.  With just a thought, she and Eliu were swooping down until they were level with him.

He was starting to look a bit green around the edges.

“Hey, hey.  It’s alright,” she called to him. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Mickey said roughly.  His hands were clenched around his cloud rider’s legs, and his eyes were locked on the ground below.  “Bet you were a natural.”

“Nah,” said Rose.  “I freaked out, the first time around.  Wasn’t crazy about having a bug in my head, for one thing, and didn’t fancy flying into a mountainside much either.  Jack and the Doctor had to take turns talking me into it.  But it was worth it.  Hey, look up at me.”

When his gaze finally met hers, she grinned.  “There yah go.  Ok, next thing: you don’t need to shout—just a quiet little thought will do. Here, I’ll go ahead, and you keep your eyes on me and just sort of casually decide to come along with us. The cloud riders like to stick together, so it’ll be easy to get yours to follow mine.  No rush, we’ll just go in a nice big circle.  Just watch me and go where I’m going, ok?”

Without giving him too much time to think about it, she urged Eliu forward into a lazy arc.  A moment later, she heard the hum of Mickey’s cloud rider and gave him a thumbs-up. After a few circuits, she led him on a winding path, looping around, changing direction, dipping down some and then spiraling upward.  A little maneuvering midair and she was next to him rather than in front.  They were able to move in tandem, and Mickey had a smile on his face.  

“Very nice,” came the Doctor’s voice from above, and they banked upward until they were level with him.  Rose eased them both into a halt, hovering midair.  The Doctor gave a nod of approval.  “You’re catching on quickly, Mickety-Mick.”

Mickey squinted against the sunlight and shrugged a shoulder in Rose’s direction.  “Good teacher.”

“Well, that goes without saying.”  The Doctor’s gaze was warm, and his smile was soft.  He was looking right at her, radiating approval. Rose found herself beaming back at him.  

Her cloud rider picked up on her swell of emotion, bobbing a bit as its humming wings picked up speed.  Rose laughed to cover a blush.  “Guess she’s ready to getting going.”

“Me too.  And we will, just as soon as…ah.”  His attention shifted upward as Reinette’s cloud rider emerged from the cliff face. The three of them watched as the pair lurched momentarily in a series of starts and stops before settling in to a more comfortable rhythm.   After less than a minute, she was swooping down toward them.

“Now, there’s a natural,” said the Doctor, admiration coloring his voice.  He raised it, calling out to her.  “Madame de Pompadour, I should have known you’d be a readymade expert, what with your telepathic abilities.”

Reinette laughed.  Her eyes were wide as saucers, and she was clutching the cloud rider’s legs, same as Mickey, but she looked more exhilarated than terrified.  Her cloud rider executed a series of twirls. “I keep thinking I have seen the pinnacle of what this world has to offer, and yet again and again, you amaze me, Doctor.  This is spectacular.”  

“She’s psychic?” Mickey half-muttered, and Rose shrugged. Suddenly, the day didn’t seem quite so lovely.

“Oh, just you wait,” said the Doctor.  “Now that we’re all together, they’ll let us out for a proper fly, the horizon hundreds of miles in any direction.”

“I am ready when you are.”  Reinette’s eyes sparkled.  “If you think you can keep up.”

“Is that a challenge?  You’re sure that’s not just a bit overconfident?”  His words were belied by the enthusiasm in his voice.

Reinette lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug.  “I may not have practice with this particular creature, but riding is riding, and I have plenty of experience with that.  What do you say?”

The hum of the Doctor’s cloud rider pitched up, and he bobbed, grinning.  “I say you’re on.  Er, shall we?”  

He glanced at the rest of the group for confirmation, and Rose thought sourly about how nice it was of him to stop staring at Reinette long enough to check with them.

“Sure,” she answered flatly.  “Let’s have a race.”

“I guess so,” said Mickey, sounding less than certain.

“Right then,” said the Doctor bracingly.  “Everyone to post, let’s say starting at that blue sphere there. First one to the third marker down wins.”

“And the prize, Doctor?” enquired Reinette as they hovered into position.

“Bragging rights.”  He winked at her.  “Everyone ready?  Then on your mark, get set, GO!”

The cloud riders took off in unison, accustomed to stay together, and at first it was pandemonium as they all jostled for position in the swarm.  Rose struggled to see through the bits of her hair whipping across her face.  Eliu kept jerking from side to side to avoid colliding with the other competitors, and Rose mentally urged her to find an open spot. Then her stomach lurched as Eliu made a sudden dip and a swoop, ending up above the other racers and with clear space ahead of her.  Tossing her head to get rid of the hair, Rose eyed the rest of the field.

She was fairly sure it was the Doctor below her and slightly to the right.  On the left and just behind him was Reinette, with Mickey was trailing on the other side of her.  They were all just about to pass the first marker, but no one was in as good a position as she and Eliu were.  Rose felt her own competitive drive kick in because, yes, alright, this was fun, Reinette’s idea or no.  

  _C’mon,_ she thought, pouring every bit of encouragement into Eliu that she could as they flew by the first marker.   _Just a bit more to take the lead._  Through their connection, she could feel the strain, the faint burn of wings beating faster than the eye could track.  Their competitors seemed to slide back behind them, and when Rose looked down, she had a clear view of the canyon below.  They were coming up on the second marker.

The wind roaring in her ears, Rose hung her head upside down to check the competition.  Reinette and Mickey had fallen behind by a good length but Doctor was still hard on her tail.  His face was set with the same wild expression he’d get every time he’d grab her hand and run, and as his cloud rider narrowed the gap between them, his eyes locked on hers.  Identical grins lit up both their faces, fueled by the heady rush of danger and speed and _them_.  

It was that, that welcome, glorious burst of the-Doctor-and-Rose-together, which, in retrospect, was probably her undoing.   The moment passed, and Rose came back to reality with the realization that Eliu was struggling with the additional drag her head was causing.  Rose corrected, but it was too late.  As they flew past the second marker, the Doctor’s cloud rider pushed forward and into the front position.  

Rose and Eliu stayed close behind, but it was no use—the Doctor and his cloud rider sailed across the finish line in first place and then celebrated their victory with a series of loop-de-loops, showing off as the rest of the group finished the race.

Rose circled around, another challenge on the tip of her tongue, because clearly this could not stand.  She’d have won if he hadn’t been so…so… _him_.  (She struggled think of a better, or at least less obvious, way to describe it.)

“I yield, Doctor” called Reinette before Rose could find the words, laughing as she and Mickey pulled to a stop together.  “You are the victor.”

This time, the Doctor’s bright smile wasn’t for Rose.  “Weeellll, I did compete in the Golden Desert Sunset Aerial 500 once upon a time,” he said, winging back around the group and hovering beside Reinette.  “So you could say I’ve had a mite more experience.  Good race, though.”   He added “All of you,” as an afterthought.

 “Perhaps you will give me the benefit of your experience?”  Reinette’s cloud rider bobbed, hot and impatient from the race, and she gentled it with a stroke of her hand.  

There was a moment, just a fraction of a second, where Rose thought the Doctor hesitated, a flicker of an eye that she could have sworn was in her direction.  But then it was gone.  “Madame de Pompadour,” he said with a smile, “I would be delighted.”

***

The group split up, Mickey declining to participate in the Doctor’s lessons in order to practice the dives and loops that were starting to come more naturally to him.  And with Reinette and the Doctor ever so busy laughing and bonding over racing strategies and fox hunting anecdotes, Rose was left to her own devices.

She let Eliu choose the path for a bit, and together, they rode the thermals upwards in lazy circles, until the all the details of the land below faded and the river at the bottom of the canyon was just a thin, blue ribbon.  The air grew brisk, clear; the quiet was peaceful.

Rose closed her eyes.

It was fine.  Everything was fine.  Certainly, she was fine.  Just a rough sort of day.  It would, she told herself, get easier.

And honestly, what right did she have to complain?  She was telepathically flying an alien dragonfly through the skies of another planet, a million light years from home.  And this wasn’t even the most amazing thing she’d done that week.

So the Doctor was a…a bit enamored with someone new, someone he’d always admired.  But for that one, pesky detail, things were just the same as they’d ever been, and he and Rose were still just friends and traveling companions.  Nothing had changed between them, and it wasn’t as if it ever would, famous courtesans or no.  

An updraft whistled past her, tugging at the hem of her shirt, and abruptly, Rose thought of that moment on New Earth, the one she only dimly remembered but had turned over and over in her head nonetheless, of Cassandra grabbing the Doctor and snogging him silly.  How for an instant, it’d seemed like he was leaning in to her.  How she was sure he’d made the tiniest of muffled noises against her lips.

She snorted and directed Eliu into a sharp turn.  What was the point of torturing herself by dissecting every minute reaction of a man caught by surprise in a sudden kiss?  And yes, alright, there’d been a hundred times when she’d been sure she’d caught him _looking_ , in this body and the prior one, but who was to say it meant the same thing to him as to her?  He was probably just making sure her outfit wasn’t breaking any local laws or checking her health…or admiring her aesthetically or something.  Point was, he’d had plenty of opportunities to do something about it if that was what he wanted.  If she were what he wanted.

Her throat clenched painfully at that and, blessing the miracle of waterproof mascara, she pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes and dabbed away the moisture there.    Eliu sent her the mental equivalent of a soft nicker.  

“S’alright,” Rose murmured, patting the creature’s foreleg. Eliu replied with an image of the group, far below them now.  Rose’s emotional turmoil was making her uneasy, and she wanted to return to the safety of the swarm.

_Just a moment more,_ Rose thought, projecting reassurance, and Eliu relaxed.  

She just needed to get through today.  Tomorrow would be better, surely.  And the day after that…  Rose swallowed hard and took a deep, shuddering breath.  And the day after that.  

It hurt to think of it, all that time stretching ahead of her without him, without the whatever-it-was that they had been to each other.  For a moment, she was tempted to break their one cardinal, unspoken rule and actually talk to him about it.  But the very thought was nerve-wracking, and she couldn’t imagine how she’d even start. And anyway, she thought as she turned Eliu into a steep descent to rejoin the group, she wasn’t sure if she could bear to hear his answer.

***

The tram ride back wasn’t quite as crowded as before, much to Rose’s regret as she gritted her teeth and listened to Reinette fawn over the Doctor.

(Actually, she admitted to herself, that wasn’t fair. Reinette might’ve been flirting, but she wasn’t being gross or pushy about it.  She was just _good_ at it—smooth and clever, never an awkward moment.  And the Doctor was clearly eating it up, delighting in the subtle flattery mixed with witty back-and-forth that was his favorite cocktail of social interaction.)

(Rose, meanwhile, was feeling another headache coming on.)

The tram came to a halt in a cavern station, and from there they proceeded on foot through the stone tunnels back to the city center and more specifically to a restaurant that the Doctor had promised served the best drinks on Plaeth.  Now that he was reunited with his new bit of alien tech, Mickey was peppering the Doctor with questions, which left Rose and Reinette to bring up the rear.  Rose kept subtly slowing down, hoping that Reinette would go ahead of her, but the other woman seemed determined to walk in step, so Rose gave up and focused on not losing track of the Doctor and Mickey in the crowd ahead of them.

It was cool in the tunnels, and Reinette rubbed her arms over the thin material of her dress to warm herself.  “How odd,” she commented, glancing around the stone walls.  “In this entire world, this is the first place that seems familiar—I have toured cellars that look much the same.  And yet somehow that sameness of it seems the strangest thing of all.”

As Rose hummed in agreement, an orange, tentacled alien pushing a hovering cart approached in the opposite direction, and they stepped to the side to allow them to pass.  Reinette made a sound of amusement.  “Or perhaps I spoke too soon.”

“Nah, I know what you mean,” said Rose.  “Sometimes I’ll see something that reminds me of Earth, and it gives me a weird feeling.  Almost like the thing that reminds me of home is also the thing that’s the most alien, if that makes sense.”

Reinette nodded, and they walked in silence for a moment. Up ahead, Rose caught a glimpse of the Doctor and Mickey engaged in lively conversation.

“I am glad we are alone.  I wanted to speak to you,” Reinette said softly, “to apologize.”

Rose glanced up at her in surprise and saw Reinette offer a tentative smile.  “Apologize?”

Reinette laced her fingers together in front of her and stared down at them.  “You are unhappy.  I fear I have been too forward too quickly.  I have made you feel…displaced.”

The pain throbbed in Rose’s temple, and she tried to wave the other woman off.  “What? No, you haven’t—”

“Yes, I have.  But I wanted you to know that it was not my intention.”  She lifted her gaze and looked earnestly into Rose’s eyes. “These matters are always somewhat difficult.”

_What matters?_ Rose wanted to say but didn’t because she didn’t want to know and anything that would prolong this conversation was intolerable.  She just shook her head.

“I should have been more sensitive to you,” Reinette continued. “You did not wish to speak of it yesterday, and I don’t want to force the conversation upon you now, but perhaps, if this arrangement becomes more permanent, we can discuss formal terms for—”

“Really,” said Rose quickly, flashing a quick and brilliant smile, the one she kept in reserve for dealing with difficult royalty in emergency situations, “it’s alright.  I’m fine. You didn’t upset me.  It’s just a headache, that’s all.”  She rubbed her forehead to demonstrate.  “I reckon the air in Alune doesn’t agree with me after all.”

Reinette just kept looking at her, solemn and serious, so Rose gave her another smile, all wide-eyed and friendly.  She laid a hand on Reinette’s arm, gave it a squeeze, careful to keep it gentle, kind.  “Really, I’m okay.  And, um. And you should be able to do as you like.  But what’s really important—” she lowered her voice conspiratorially “—is what do you think of your first alien planet?  Mad, isn’t it?”

She kept up the bluff, and it worked.  The worry in Reinette’s eyes lingered just a moment longer and then faded, and the two of them started up a conversation about time and space travel that carried them all the way to the restaurant.

***

“Anyways, I wasn’t scared of falling, not really.”  Mickey picked up his shot glass, containing something lime green and glowing “It was the sudden stop at the end that had me worried.”  

Rose found herself laughing and groaning along with everyone else, despite everything, because Mickey’s smile was infectious.

He knocked back the shot and spluttered, eyeing the glass.  “What the hell’s in this?”

The Doctor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Mickety-Mick.  Never ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

“I think it’s marvelous,” chimed in Reinette, giving a glittering smile over the top of her own glass.

They were sitting on an open air balcony at the cantina. The sun had set, and the residual heat in the air was comfortable rather than oppressive.  The balcony was lit with globes full of what looked like dancing fireflies and strings of fairy lights.

Rose watched, contemplative, the swirling, pale brew suspended by magic in her hand.  

Ok, it wasn’t magic, it was an invisible force field something-something cup, blah blah blah, she’d forgotten what the Doctor’d said, but who gave a flying fuck about that anyway?  Point was, it looked exactly like magic.

It was also her third drink.  Of this particular variety.  She silently held it up to the sparkling view of the city in a parody of a toast.  Thank heavens for alcohol.

 When the server has first appeared at their table, the Doctor had glanced at Rose but when she’d just shrugged, he’d gone ahead and ordered for the whole table. As the last of the sunlight had left the sky, the tabletop itself had begun to glow with a golden light in a pattern of elegant coils and loops.  

“Bioluminescence,” the Doctor had announced in response to everyone’s oohs and ahhs.  He was looking right at Reinette as he spoke.  “Specialized algae impregnated in the clay—you wouldn’t believe how tricky it makes the firing process.  And they’re held in equilibrium by…”  

And that had pretty much been when Rose had stopped listening.

A good decision, she decided now as she finished off the last of her magic floaty drink.  It’d meant that she’d been able to enjoy her meal of veg and bug parts in peace, without having to listen to all the no-doubt marvelously intellectual conversation about algae at the other end of the table.

(Because, somehow, she’d ended up sitting as far away from the Doctor as physically possible.  Again.)

Now, though, dinner was finished and there was nothing for it but to get really stinking drunk.  A plate of something dessert-like was waved in front of her face—mmm, it was crunchy and sweet—and then someone, maybe Mickey, slid a new drink her way. Blue, this time, and glittery.  The alcohol swept through her blood stream in a lovely rush, and Rose felt the last bit of tension in her belly go slack and easy.

The drink made her head spin a bit, though, so to steady it, she stared across the table at that man, the stupid, spikey haired man, the man she was in love with, and fuck, she tried not to even admit that to herself most of the time because it just made things harder in the end.  

The thing was, she’d meant what she’d said to the Doctor back on that street outside the chippy—that she’d thought she and him were…well, something special.  They’d never named it, but still, she’d always felt it, the truth of it, right down to her bones.

_Oh, honestly, Rose,_ said a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mum.   _Don’t be ridiculous._

She physically shook her head in an effort to reject that, and the room wobbled uneasily in response.  Ok, she obviously didn’t have Reinette’s power to fascinate.  Couldn’t manage to delight with effortless charm the way he seemed to so admire.  She would never be posh or cultured or refined, but she’d never felt like she needed to be something she wasn’t.  Honestly, she hadn’t thought twice about it, until now.  

An image of awkward curtseys in dungarees in front of Queen Victoria intruded, and Rose cringed.  But that had been all right, really.  Hadn’t it? She and the Doctor had laughed about it, made it into an inside joke— _nakedness_ —and giggled about it over breakfast while they stole food off one another’s plates, their trainers bumping against each other’s under the table.

Whatever it was that they had been, they had been together.

And he was pushing her away.

Because he was scared, because he was bored, because they had crossed some line he’d established in his mind but never bothered to share.

Because she was going to wither and die.

Mickey was right—he was being an arse.

And she was going to tell him right bloody now.

Rose slapped down her drink onto the glowy table and pointed a finger in the Doctor’s general direction.  “Whyda wanna do that for, anyway?  S’not such a bad things you’d think!”  Her hand bobbed in the air quite of its own accord and accidently smacked Mickey in an attempt at emphasis.

She had his attention, that was for sure, brown eyes wide and focused on only her for once, and she was just about to follow up on her argument when he—rudely, she thought—changed the subject.

“Er, how many of those has she had?” he asked, glancing down at the empty bottles and shot glasses and semi-invisible force cups, his eyebrows scrunching up in alarm.

“Uhhh,” answered Mickey, trying to do a quick count.  “A lot?”

“Riiiight” said the Doctor, and he turned to wave a hand at the nearest server.  “Check, please!”

***

Rose couldn’t quite remember how she’d gotten to the hovercraft, but as it rattled its way to the city border, someone coaxed a fizzy tablet into her mouth and pushed a bottle of water into her hand.  She drank and drank and drank until she felt like a water balloon, logy and bloated.  But then, slowly but surely, the fog cleared away until she came back to herself, now just a little bit tipsy, staring out at the starlit dessert as they rumbled down the hill toward the TARDIS.  

When it pulled to a halt, the Doctor jumped up and thanked the driver, the two of them exchanging a series of chopping hand and antennae motions, from which Rose surmised that this hadn’t been one of its regular stops. Which meant that the Doctor had arranged for this mode of transportation specially on account of her getting so horribly drunk.  Rose blushed, mortified.  

As the Doctor wrapped it up with the driver, Mickey and Reinette quietly began to gather up their things, and Rose tried to scrape together a little bit of dignity.  

As Mickey stood up, he offered her a hand and a chagrined smile. “C’mon, I think we’re back home. Let’s get you back to your room, yeah?”

She took his hand to get to her feet and then shrugged off his arm when he tried to wrap it around her shoulders.  “S’alright, I can manage,” she said softly and with a little smile to take away any sting from the rejection because there was Mickey again, being so very sweet, so very kind, when he wasn’t who she wanted.  

Without much talking, the group shuffled off the hovercraft. The Doctor fished around in his pocket for the key, and while he unlocked the door, Rose leaned up against the side of the TARDIS, watching the glow of the hovercraft as it made its way back up the hill.   As it slipped over the crest, she exhaled in the darkness and the sudden quiet.

As her eyes adjusted, the soft, dark shapes of the desert became more distinct, and above her head, the night sky bloomed in astonishing splendor.  

Rose took another breath.  “Oh,” she said in a sigh that seemed to echo in the faint breeze.

Behind her, the Doctor was standing with a hand on the door, opened just a crack, and the other hand in his pocket.  Mickey and Reinette had already gone inside.  

“Coming then?” he asked as Rose lingered.

“Just wanted to take a look at the stars,” she said softly. “Couldn’t quite make them out in town.”

“Light pollution,” he said, pushing the door closed with a click. “The artificial lights scatter photon particles into the sky, create sky-glow, and block out the fainter light of the stars.  The farther away you get from civilization, the more you can see.”

“Ah,” she said, resisting the urge to bang her head into the side of the ship over and over.  Wasn’t it just like him to give her a lecture at a time like this?

“If you want, I can turn down the TARDIS lights,” he offered after a moment of silence.

Rose ignored him and turned to the ship.  She wasn’t sure, maybe it was the remnants of alcohol tearing away the barriers in her mind, but she felt like she could hear it singing—a soft, golden song, bone-deep, that ached with forgotten familiarity.  She ran her fingers down the wood paneling, felt the ridges and bumps of the cracking paint-that-wasn’t-really-paint.

“Shhhhh,” she said softly, and the TARDIS lights dimmed.

“There we are,” she said looking up at the brilliance of the sky. “Bathing in the light of a thousand little suns.  And how many alien skies have you seen, you beautiful creature?” she asked, hand still resting on the TARDIS.  “Millions and millions, yeah?” The ship hummed in her mind, a sound of agreement.

“Rose.”  The Doctor spoke her name as he did sometimes, like he hadn’t meant to say anything at all but couldn’t quite stop himself.

And this, this was her power: not to fascinate or delight but to draw, from behind his teeth, a sliver of his soul in the shape of her name. How many times could this happen—her pulling bits and pieces out of him—before he wouldn’t have anything left?

She should say something, talk to him, admit the truth that was lodged in her heart like a stone.  It was too dark to see him properly; all she could make out was the shape of his face and his eyes, shining the shadows, and she wondered why, for just a moment, the desert air smelled of snow and the alcohol on her breath was from a New Year’s pint.

She shook off the feeling of old memory (it was just the air, the chilly air settling across the desert that made her voice rough), “Doctor, I wanted to say…I—”

But he dropped his gaze to the ground as he interrupted her, voice heavy.  “We should be going.”

“Doctor,” she repeated.  She watched the subtle shadows of his face change and knew that it was his jaw clenching tight.

Then, in an abrupt motion, he turned, yanked the door open, and stepped into his ship

***

When Rose finally pulled herself together and walked into the control room, the group was engaged in a lively debate.  There was no hint of tension on the Doctor’s face.

“Always wanted to go to California,” said Mickey hopefully. “L.A. maybe?  Or San Francisco?”

“L.A., really?”  The Doctor sniffed, apparently unimpressed.  “Honestly, Mickey, I could take you to the furthest reaches of the universe, from its beginnings until its very last breath, and you want to hop across the pond?”

“Hey, never been to the States.  I’d like to see what all the fuss is about.  New York?” he suggested.  “If California is out.”

“I, too, would like to see the New World,” interjected Reinette, and then glanced between the two of them.  “That is what you are speaking of, is it not?”

The Doctor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine.  But not San Francisco.  I died there—don’t ask,” he quickly added.  “And it’s bloody hard to find parking in New York, even with a trans-dimensional time ship.  How about Las Vegas?”

Mickey looked dubious.  “We just came from a city in the middle of a desert.”

“Ah, but we wouldn’t be coming for the landscape, not the natural one anyway,” said the Doctor, warming to the subject.  “We’d be there for the nightlife!  Shows and neon signs, glitz and glamour!  What d’ya say?”

“Yeah, ok,” said Mickey.  “I’m in.”

Reinette nodded.  “And I.”

“Rose?” The Doctor turned to her, and his face showed nothing more than pleasant inquiry.

She tried to work up a smile.  “Vegas, yeah.  Sounds good.”

“Wonderful.”  He spun back to the console and sent them whirling into the vortex.  “Off to bed with you lot then.”  


End file.
